


Lipstick Lesbian

by akaatsuki



Series: Girls [3]
Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, anyway LESBIAN ACTIVITY DETECTED, geez this lowkey reads like a fucking biography, lots of headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 21:56:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16982526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaatsuki/pseuds/akaatsuki
Summary: Kiryuu Kuro lived a pretty comfortable life, she would say. Maybe she wasn’t completely “normal,” but she was fairly certain that there was nothing special about her high school experience so far—and she wasn’tlookingfor something to be special about it, either. All she wanted was to make it through high school without getting into any sort of troublesome situations, and by the looks of it, she was already halfway there.That is, until she met Hasumi Keito.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is part of a series/collection of fics that are pretty much just me projecting and coping with my own personal experiences as well as other fun/cute stuff! at my core im just a lonely lesbian who wants to write characters that i can deeply resonate with, so this series/collection is an attempt at that, i guess! that means that some of these could get a bit personal and self-indulgent, but i really hope someone else can enjoy these as much as i enjoyed writing them! ♥

Kiryuu Kuro had never quite fit into the “feminine” image that her parents had initially expected of her. She can recall her distant memories of childhood, preferring to play around in the dirt and mud after a rainy day instead of staying inside and learning how to knit alongside Itsuki Shu, her childhood friend. Her father was a martial artist, and although Kuro learned quite a bit about needlework from her mother as well, she most definitely preferred to be receiving a lesson from  _ him _ instead. 

She liked to wear plain jeans and baggy sweatshirts, a stark opposite of Shu, who dressed quite literally like a porcelain doll. Even her little sister took on the same kind of affinity as Shu, always crying out with delight when presented with a brand new dress to wear on a sunny day. Kuro remembers wearing a dress a few times in her childhood, but what she remembers about it is feeling stiff and uncomfortable and telling her mother that she’d rather just wear  _ pants  _ instead.

Kuro can recall the friends that she made in school: mostly boys, and rowdy ones at that. She preferred competing to see who could kick a rubber ball the furthest over playing with jumping rope, and although she was initially quiet in her earlier years of primary school, her companions’ reckless behavior eventually passed on to her. Primary school passed that way, and by the time she began middle school, she was certain that she just didn’t have any interest in fitting herself into a group that she didn’t belong to. So she stayed with the group of friends she’d made in primary school, drawn in by the desire to belong somewhere static and reliable. 

Puberty sucked (of course it did), and she remembers hitting one of the boys hard upside the head when she was one day teased about the size of her chest. After an hour long scolding from the principal and a threat of suspension, Kuro returned to her friends with her hands stuffed in her pockets and a scowl upon her face. But due to some miraculously unspoken understanding between them all, they laughed it off instead of making her situation worse, and when she realized they didn’t care about their differences as much as she did, she (gratefully) stopped caring about it. Or, well, she stopped caring about it as much as she  _ could;  _ the uncomfortable knowledge that her body was noticeably different than theirs made her wish that her school didn’t require a uniform so that she could wear an extra layer of loose sweatshirt. 

It wasn’t until the last year of middle school that her group of “rowdy kids” begun to turn into a group of “rowdy  _ delinquents _ ” instead. Arriving five minutes late to class turned into ten, and then twenty, and then skipping them entirely. She had her doubts at first, but her desire to stay with the group that she belonged to was far stronger than her rational decision-making at the time, and so she ditched her obligations to hang out behind the school instead. They amused themselves with stupid tricks and leaps on the bike racks and eventually even got their hands on their first cigarette. They weren’t very smart, nor were they very certain about what to do next in their lives, but at the very least, they enjoyed each other’s company. 

To Kuro, that’s all that mattered in that present moment. 

Her parents forced her to at least do the  _ minimum _ amount of work required of her to pass her final year of middle school. Kuro scrawled her way through it all so that she could continue spending the majority of her time with her friends, despite the disapproval of her parents in regards to their behavior. She knew that they weren’t the ideal friends for her in her parents’ eyes and in the eyes of those around them, but Kuro never cared for their opinions; they were her friends who had stayed with her and accepted her since childhood, and she was grateful for their companionship. Their hearts were good and pure beneath their dirty clothes and grime-streaked cheeks, and despite the world around them giving up on her friends one-by-one, Kuro never did. She had to continue on to high school due to her parents’ demands, but she remained close with those friends of hers, despite their lack of attendance to any school. 

Yumenosaki wasn’t her choice of school due to some grand, childish dream. Rather, it required less intellectual work and more physical work, and her little sister begged her to accept their parents’ choice, not wanting Kuro to end up like the kind of person their parents would talk about at the dinner table at night. Kuro only agreed because it was her dear little sister asking it of her—her dear little sister who she would walk through hell and high water for, and, yes, even go to  _ idol school _ for. Not making any promises, Kuro ordered her uniform (the long skirt preference, obviously) and grudgingly prepared for her first week of high school. 

Kuro credits her survival of her first year mostly to her friends, who would loiter on the campus between her classes. After the death of her mother near the very beginning of the school year, those friends of her would visit her whenever they could sneak by the Yumenosaki security (which really wasn’t that good at the time, mind you) to take her mind off of things. They would bring her respite from the crushing despair of her current situation, and Kuro recovered gradually from her grief (although she bottled most of it up and just tucked it away). She cursed the people who accused them of being mindless delinquents. 

And then, about halfway through Kuro’s first year at Yumenosaki, that  _ something _ happened.

Like most other days of the week, Kuro had taken to leaning against the back wall of the school among her circle of friends, cupping her hand around the butt of a cigarette to stop the wind from blowing out the flame of her lighter. Absent from the conversation that the others were having, she exhaled a thick cloud of smoke and watched it rise upwards in the air, free hand tucked comfortably inside the pocket of her uniform blazer. The late spring afternoon was growing steadily in temperature, and she dreaded the incoming heat of of summer. 

And that was when, for the first time, she met Hasumi Keito.

Keito was shorter than herself, and most certainly less built. She preferred the long skirt uniform as well, but unlike Kuro’s short and messily self-cut hair, hers was styled into a neat and tight braid that rested over her right shoulder. She wore slim-framed glasses and Kuro remembers thinking to herself why  _ any _ fifteen-year-old in their right mind would wear  _ lipstick _ . Despite the clear-cut fact that she did not belong with this group of shadowy delinquents, she stood tall and crossed her arms firmly over her chest. Although irritated by her presence, Kuro couldn’t help but give her a bit of credit for not turning on her heels and running for the hills upon turning that corner and seeing her group. 

Only a few moments after registering her presence, Kuro realized that her credit was well-given; Keito, as if completely oblivious to the people surrounding her, marched up to where Kuro stood and glared up at her directly. Her brows lowered and a scowl upon her face, confidence unwavering, it was doubtless that she was somehow convinced that her authoritative presence would make Kuro listen to her. Kuro would’ve felt  _ bad _ for her, really, if not for the fact that she had the guts of someone diving into a shark tank. 

“Smoking is  _ not _ allowed on campus grounds,” she stated in a cautionary tone. “You’re a  _ first year _ , for crying out loud! Why are  _ you _ smoking, anyway?” 

Kuro watches as her friends threw each other incredulous glances before they began to snicker at the pure absurdity of the situation, and she really,  _ really _ hoped that this girl wasn’t about to turn around and scold  _ them _ , too—

“And  _ you _ four,” Keito began again, turning around and facing the boys with a disapproving stare. “You don’t even  _ go _ here. You  _ do _ realize that you’re trespassing right now, don’t you?” 

Kuro rolled her eyes and held her cigarette to the side as she clears her throat. I mean,  _ really _ , she couldn’t just stand there and watch this embarrassing display any longer. 

“Oi, whoever you are,” she warned, glaring down at the shorter girl, “y’should really mind your own fuckin’ business before ya start somethin’ ya can’t finish. Go on, go get back t’class, or whatever.” 

As if taking Kuro’s warning as a challenge, Keito turned back to face her, confidence still unwavering. Kuro saw her friends all lean in towards her direction, glancing between the two girls, waiting anxiously, as if seriously expecting a first punch to be thrown. She had half the mind to scold them, but instead, she brought her cigarette back to her lips and takes another drag, looking down jadedly at Keito. 

And then Keito reached out, snatched the cigarette from between Kuro’s fingers, and put it out beneath her shoe. 

Overcome by impulsive fury, Kuro reacted before anyone else can, abruptly grabbing one of Keito’s shoulders and shoving her roughly against the back wall. Her hand kept her pinned there, overpowering her without any difficulty at all. She scowled down at her, anger painted clearly upon her expression, her free hand clenched into a fist within her pocket. Finally seeming to realize what kind of person she’s gotten herself into a quarrel with, Keito’s eyes widened behind the lenses of her glasses, the color draining from her face as she flattened herself against the cold wall. 

“Those fuckin’ cost  _ money _ , you bitch,” Kuro snarled, “ya tryin’ t’pick a fuckin’ fight, or somethin’?” 

Her warning reached Keito just before her head tilted unwillingly to the side, her lips parting but no sound escaping. Kuro’s brows knitted together in bemusement as she tried to figure out what the other girl was attempting to do, but it wasn’t any more than a few moments later that Keito’s form lost its rigidity entirely, sending her stumbling forward against Kuro’s chest. She awkwardly caught her on pure instinct, and didn’t realize what actually  _ happened _ until a voice finally interrupted the uncomfortable silence.

“Shit,” one of the boys behind her cursed, “did she—did she just fuckin’  _ faint? _ ” 

“ _ Fuck, _ ” Kuro groaned, now having far too much responsibility on her shoulders than she’d originally wanted. “ _ Fuck _ —what do I do now!?” 

“ _ Jesus, _ I don’t know,” he retorted, holding his hands up defensively, “we didn’t do anythin’! Just, uh…you  _ go _ here, take her to the infirmary, or somethin’!”   

“Uh…” 

Kuro had looked down at Keito, unconscious form held up only by Kuro’s sloppy support, and realized that she had absolutely _no_ idea what to do. 

“…Where the fuck do I grab her?” 

“Jesus  _ Christ _ , Kiryuu, I don’t know—you’re a girl, just…just fuckin’  _ grab _ her!” he argued back, running a hand through his hair. The group backed further away, as if escaping some sort of contagion. 

“Grab her  _ where _ !?” Kuro snapped back in exasperation, feeling her hands shaking from the sudden stress.  _ God _ , she could’ve  _ really _ used that smoke that Keito had ground into the concrete.  

And so, after several minutes of trying to map out her course of action, Kuro was forced to send the four of her friends off of the campus so that she could (awkwardly) carry some girl she’d never met before to the infirmary. 

She remembers the brief conversation she had with the school nurse (some greasy guy who reeked of alcohol) and remembers quietly asking if she could wait in the infirmary until the other had regained consciousness. It was definitely weird for her to waste her time on such a thing, but despite her angry outburst, Kuro  _ did _ have decency, and had at least wanted to apologize for the trouble she caused. It wasn’t like Kuro was  _ actually _ planning to hurt her, anyway; she was just going to intimidate her a bit so that she’d just leave Kuro alone already. 

Really, that’s how Kuro  _ always _ dealt with troublesome people, and it had always worked up until then.

But true to her word, Kuro waited until she woke up and, despite the awkwardness between them, managed to give the other girl a short apology. Keito had looked at her dizzily, confused by her surroundings and obviously having to take a moment to remember what had even happened in the first place. When she finally seemed to have collected her thoughts, she got up from the infirmary bed with an indignant huff and crossed her arms firmly over her chest once more. Kuro remembers her being scolded for a good amount of time before Keito eventually decided that she had better things to do with her time and walked off. She then crashed face-first into the wall of the infirmary only a few moments later. 

Pursing her lips to stop herself from bursting into laughter at the flustered and disoriented Keito, who had previously been so confident in her authority and appearance, Kuro plucked the pair of glasses from the side table and approached the other student. She placed them carefully into Keito’s hands. The other girl fumbled with them for a short moment before quickly putting them on and glaring at Kuro with a reddened face, as if to say, “you better not tell anyone about this!” 

Almost immediately after, Keito quit the room, leaving Kuro alone to reflect on the strangeness of the events that had unfolded through the afternoon. Although she had expected herself to still feel annoyed at the inconvenience, Kuro found that she actually felt something else bubbling in her chest; that girl had been a stuck-up prick, alright, but just like herself, she was hiding her true nature behind that hard outer shell. 

And, if she was honest with herself, that flustered, disoriented girl who couldn’t even see two meters in front of her without her glasses was actually pretty tolerable—maybe even  _ more _ than tolerable. 

Kuro glanced at the infirmary bed on her way out, realizing then that she hadn’t even learned the other girl’s name. She eventually put it out of her mind and continued with her school life, and by the time she finished her first year and was moving on to her second, she didn’t own a single cigarette. 


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t until her second year at Yumenosaki that Kiryuu Kuro finally learned Hasumi Keito’s name.

Neither Kuro nor Keito had changed much from their first year of high school. Kuro still spent her free time behind the school and slacking off in regards to her studies, and Keito still spent her free time enforcing the regulations and completing work inside the student council. They lived largely separate lives (Keito mysteriously hadn’t come back to scold Kuro for smoking on campus a second time), their priorities and intentions vastly different from one another’s. Considering this, the two of them should have simply never met again and graduated on their own.

This is why Kuro was so surprised when she made her way behind the school one afternoon to find that _someone_ was already there.

At first, Kuro was so taken aback by the absurdity of the situation that she thought she might be dreaming. However, Keito turned from where she’d been leaning against the wall and looked directly at her, immediately reinforcing the reality of what the other girl was seeing. Kuro awkwardly met her gaze, and when Keito did nothing but stare, she uncomfortably looked away. It was obvious that Keito was here to see _her_ (though she couldn’t have had the slightest idea of _why_ ), but unsure of how to actually ask her what it was that she wanted, Kuro instead took the more aloof approach that she’s so accustomed to.

“…Don’t worry,” Kuro had sighed as she walked past Keito, hands tucked into the pockets of her uniform blazer as always, “I stopped smokin’, n’ those guys don’t hang ‘round here anymore. I’m just tryin’ to beat the fuckin’ heat.”

But just as Kuro passed Keito, the other girl had turned on her heels and threw her hand out, tugging on the sleeve of Kuro’s blazer. Kuro stopped in her tracks, pausing to sigh audibly before turning around to shoot the other a questioning look. She nearly took a startled step away from the other when she was met with Keito’s intense stare, a determined light in her eyes glimmering even in the shade of the building.

“Join Akatsuki,” she demanded simply, her fierce expression unmoving.

Kuro blinked, staring at her in bewilderment.

“…What?”

Keito tugged Kuro’s hands out from the pockets of her blazer, clapping them together and holding on tightly. Her hands were surprisingly cool despite the hot weather, and Kuro shuddered at the contrast against her own heated skin. Beyond confused by the other girl’s words and actions, Kuro glanced towards the corner that she’d come from, wondering if it was too late to make a run for it and leave this lunatic behind. The sound of Keito clearing her throat told her that it probably was.

“I don’t care what it is that you want as payment,” she informed Kuro in a stern, matter-of-fact tone, “I’ll give it to you. All I want is for you to join Akatsuki and become the most popular unit in Yumenosaki with me.”

“Y-You’re fuckin’ _crazy_ ,” Kuro stuttered in disbelief, pulling her hands away and shoving them back into the safety of her pockets. She let her expression fall into a scowl and turned away, resolving to leave after all.

“So?” Keito pressed despite the negative response, as if seriously expecting Kuro to actually _agree_ to her ridiculous offer.

“Sorry, but I ain’t interested in joinin’ your ‘Mochitsuki,’ or whatever it is, Missy,” she shook her head, beginning to walk off. “I’m hardly the kinda idol that _you_ are, anyway, and on top of that, I don’t even know your _name._ You’re better off findin’ someone better for your lil’ live show.”

Kuro had intensely felt the pressing urge to get as far away from the other girl as possible. Her personality reminded her far too much of her estranged childhood friend, and she knew _well_ not to get involved with any of _her_ fervent ideas, lest she get buried down a rabbit hole that she’d have to spend _forever_ crawling out of. She had no interest in getting drawn in by some bright-eyed girl with a dream of being an idol; it simply wasn’t a place where she was fated to be.

“My name is Hasumi Keito,” the other girl said firmly, her voice still unwavering despite the clear rejection she’d received. The certainty and confidence in her tone made Kuro stop in her steps one more time, hesitating, caught again by that terribly strong aura pulling her back.

“You won’t have to do any sort of actual idol work,” she continued when Kuro had stopped to wait for her, hardly needing much of an invitation to continue insisting her offer. “All you’ll have to do is stand on the stage and scowl like you always do. You’re still not in any unit, either—this is your chance, you know.”

Kuro sighed, waving her off and continuing to ignore her offer in favor of leaving the conversation entirely.

“Again, not interested, _Hasumi._ I’m goin’ to class now.”

Keito watched her leave quietly (much to Kuro’s surprise), fists clenched tightly in frustration at being turned down without any sort of consideration. She knew that Kuro didn’t take her idol work very seriously, but Keito thought that even _she_ would realize that sooner or later, she’d have to get involved in _something._ Keito’s offer was practically flawless: rise to the top of Yumenosaki within the next few month by doing nothing but standing on a stage and intimidating people. Even despite this, Kuro hadn’t taken even the slightest nibble at the bait she’d thrown out to her. In fact, Kuro had shrugged her off with such casualty that she couldn’t help but admit that it _infuriated_ her.

She drew her phone from her pocket and, unlocking it, began to scroll through her contacts. Stopping at her most recently added number, Keito hesitated a moment before entering the contact name of _Kiryuu Kuro,_ eyeing her unread text messages before shoving the device back into her blazer pocket.

“You _will_ be mine, Kiryuu,” she swore quietly to nobody, staring in solitude at the place where Kuro had previously been standing.

 

…

 

To say the least about Hasumi Keito, Kuro thinks, would be to say that she was completely and utterly _impossible_ to deal with. It had only been two days after their conversation that she received her first phone call from her, and, after angrily questioning how the hell she even got Kuro’s number, she got nothing out of it other than the fact that Keito _really_ wasn’t going to give up on recruiting her. Even so, Kuro was adamant in her refusal of the offer, ending the phone call after a brief argument and continuing with her day as normal.

And then a second phone call came the next day.

And on the third day, she called twice.

On the fourth day, she called twice and left a text message.

On the fifth day, while watching some boring television show at home, her little sister had picked up Kuro’s phone and asked her why one of her contacts was named simply _Annoying._

Kuro’s answer was obvious: Hasumi Keito was extremely, undoubtedly, _absolutely_ fucking _annoying._  But Kuro supposed that, again, she had to give Keito a bit of credit for her persistence.

After the first few calls, Kuro had simply begun to hang up on her or decline the call entirely; in regards to her texts, Kuro would usually only send back a simple “no,” or “don’t wanna,” or “stop being annoying.” At this point, she rarely answered them at all. Even so, Keito never seemed to grow tired of trying to sway her and convince her with long and drawn-out paragraphs of persuasive argument—in fact, she actually seemed to be getting even _more_ determined from Kuro’s constant rejection.

By the second week of reading eight paragraph text messages, Kuro realized that even when Keito _wasn’t_ texting her, she was quite literally the only thing occupying Kuro’s thoughts. She cursed Keito’s unrelenting bombardment for distracting her to the point where she could no longer ignore her, and on that Friday, she finally decided to go to her in person and tell her directly that her answer was absolutely and definitely not going to change.

This is what had brought Kuro to the student council’s designated office for the first time in her entire high school career. She stared long and hard at the double doors, her vague recollection of the various essays sent to her through the text messaging app the only thing making her hesitate from shoving them open and storming inside. She supposed that she felt at least a _bit_ bad about telling Keito to just _fuck off already,_ but in the end, Kuro decides that she’ll deal with the consequences of her anger later. Thus, she pushed open the doors, expecting to be greeted with all the fervor of the messages and calls that she’d been receiving over the past two weeks.

But instead, the first thing that Kuro saw was Keito slumped over at what must be her working desk, arms functioning as a poor excuse of a headrest as she remained in a deep sleep even as the doors to the room swing open. Kuro blinked at the scene, standing in place for several moments as she registered that Keito really _was_ fast asleep and unable to realize her presence. She approached the desk and plucked her way through a few empty and tipped over cans of energy drinks (she wrinkled her nose at the incredibly sugary smell of them), glancing haphazardly at the innumerable stacks of papers piled up. Keito continued to sleep, her glasses crooked upon her face as she apparently hadn’t even gotten the chance to take them off before passing out on her work.

Kuro pursed her lips. The rational voice in her mind was clearly telling her to wake Keito up and inform her that she will _not,_ under _any_ circumstances, be joining her unit.

She gently shook the other girl’s shoulder, waiting until she stirred to stop, already rehearsing the words that she wanted to say in her head. Keito had uttered a small, sleepy noise as she began to wake up, blinking blearily and trying to register her surroundings as she lifted a disoriented hand to fix her glasses. She lifted her head and slipped her hands beneath the lenses to rub the weariness from her eyes, and when she drew them back down, she looked up and was (pleasantly?) surprised to see Kuro standing over her desk. There was a brief silence between the two. Kuro assumed that, having just woken up, Keito actually had to _prepare_ herself to start pestering her again.

“…Kiryuu,” she greeted bluntly, voice weighed by exhaustion. Keito swallowed thickly and blinked the last of the blurriness from her vision before offering the other girl a forced smile. “I don’t suppose you’re here to say ‘yes?’”

No. Kuro is _not_ here to say yes. She was absolutely, one-hundred-percent _not_ here to accept Keito’s offer. Keito’s bright, upturned eyes would have to find someone else to convince, and her thoughts would have to be occupied with someone other than Kuro, and her texts would have to be ignored by some other girl who didn’t want to join her unit. Kuro noticed that Keito’s glasses were still crooked from where she had tried to rub at her eyes, and her usually neat and tidy braid was now disheveled and out of place. The papers piled up on her desk didn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon.

“Yes.”

Kuro’s eyes had widened just as much as Keito’s had when she found herself uttering that instinctive response. Despite having desperately tried to wrack her mind for a reason _why_ she had just answered Keito with the _last_ thing she intended to say to her, Kuro couldn’t find a single explanation for it. It’s either that, or she simply couldn’t recall what it was that she was thinking exactly; what she _does_ recall more than anything else is the way that Keito’s eyes sparkled and her painted lips fell open just enough to convey her surprise at the answer she’d received. Kuro’s heart had skipped a beat then, and by the time the smooth “o” of Keito’s lips had taken the shape of a pleased smile, Kuro’s ears were being tormented by her own thundering heartbeat.

“…I knew that you would come around, Kiryuu,” she replies warmly.

Keito lifted herself from her seat and reached forward to grasp onto the front of the sweatshirt Kuro wore beneath her uniform blazer. Kuro’s mouth opened in a silent question, but was quickly closed when Keito pulled her down enough for her lips to reach Kuro’s cheek. Kuro could feel practically all of the muscles in her body seizing at once, an embarrassing and strangled noise escaping her as Keito’s soft ( _how were they that soft!?_ ) lips left the warmth of her cheek as quickly as they had been placed there. Even after Keito had pulled away from her, Kuro remained leaned over the desk, her clammy palms pressed forcefully onto the surface of the desk.

“I have to go and bring these to Kunugi-sensei for review,” Keito announced casually, as if that entire fiasco was something completely _normal,_ and picked up one of the various stacks of paper from the desk. Kuro remained frozen in place, unable to will her body to move even as Keito left her place by her desk and made her way towards the doors of the student council office, one hand reaching up to readjust her glasses.

“Oh—and, Kiryuu,” she said suddenly, turning around to look at the other girl and holding back a quiet laugh upon looking again at Kuro’s awkward and stiff posture. “We’ll need to work out a couple of things for this unit, so plan to meet me tomorrow in the dojo. There will be no archery club practice tomorrow, so it should be available for our use.”

And with this, the doors closed behind Keito, leaving Kuro with nothing but the hammering of her heartbeat and her frenzied thoughts. She unconsciously lifted one of her hands, fingertips brushing softly over the area of her cheek that Keito’s lips had pressed upon. Her skin was flushed and heated with the sudden realization of her first crush—something that she would unknowingly carry with her for the rest of the year.

The sound of Kuro’s forehead roughly hitting the surface of Keito’s desk echoed in the silence of the room.


End file.
